Lucius and the Shrink
by notwolf
Summary: After the war, Lucius is sentenced to see a psychiatrist.
1. Chapter 1

8

Lucius and the Shrink

"This sentence is outrageous!" Lucius boomed to anyone who would listen, which didn't leave a whole lot of people. Already the majority of gawkers at his hearing had meandered off, many of them grumbling precisely because his sentence was outrageously _light_, not excessive.

Lucius sniffed. Wasn't that just the way of it? He'd done everything in his power to bring about changes to benefit society by ridding it of undesirables, and _he_ was the one being punished! And not even with Azkaban which, dank and miserable as it was, at least wasn't uncharted territory. With a little imagination it could seem like a scary, putrid version of home. How in the world was he expected to follow this ridiculous mandate?

"Come on, honey," Narcissa cooed, smoothing his beautiful locks. "I know it's unfair, but you get to stay home with your family. That must count for something."

The man glanced over at Draco, who at the moment was twirling in circles and giggling like a toddler. "I guess," he moaned.

"Do you want me to make the appointment for you?"

Lucius nodded numbly. He'd been beaten and tortured many times in his life, he could handle a penalty like that. Instead the court had opted for a much more heinous, devious punishment: a minimum of ten sessions with—what did they call him—a si—sycophant. No. Psy—psycho—_psychiatrist_. A "mind doctor", he fumed, as if there were anything wrong with his mind!

His seething was interrupted by Narcissa, who wore a positively ghastly look of dismay.

"Lucius, I've just been informed there are no wizard psychiatrists."

He brightened for a second. He wouldn't have to go after all!

"You, uh," she hemmed, stepping back and latching onto her wand in the event of a major meltdown. "You have to see a Muggle psychiatrist."

His horrified screams echoed down the corridors of the Ministry.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXO OO

"Mr. Malfoy," sang the receptionist. "You're right on time."

"Of course I am, you vermin." He considered sitting down in the box-like area with chairs, but thought better of it. He was here under protest; protesters didn't make themselves comfortable in the enemy's waiting room. "Promptness is a virtue."

"Oh, I'm not Vermin, I'm Veronica," she replied, smiling.

"Whatever."

"You can go in. Dr. Tate is ready." She pointed at the door clearly labeled _Dr. Tate_, as if he somehow might confuse the office with the supply closet.

Lucius rolled his eyes, heaved a tremendous sigh, and opened the door. Instantly he understood why the door needed a definitive designation. This place didn't remotely resemble an office. Where was the desk? The bookcase? And why was there a divan in the middle of the floor? Did these filthy Muggles habitually fall asleep while walking across a room?

Dr. Tate popped out from behind the door, startling the wizard. Had Narcissa not taken the precaution to confiscate his wand, he would have hexed the moron. He felt vulnerable, naked almost, without his wand…and not even his pimp cane to pretend he still had it! Before he could prevent it, the doctor grabbed his hand, pumping his arm up and down.

"Hello, Lucius, I'm Dr. Tate."

"Mr. Malfoy will be fine," growled Lucius, yanking his hand away. He rubbed his palm across his pants, grimacing.

"Won't you sit down?"

Lucius looked around the room, then made a beeline for the only available chair. Tate, perceiving his intention, bolted past him and threw himself forward to land belly first across the seat, then slithered to an upright position with a triumphant smirk.

"My chair," he said.

Clenching his teeth and reminding himself that Malfoys do not start brawls, Lucius hissed, "You said to sit down."

"I meant lie down."

"I'm not tired, thank you," clipped Lucius. Because there was nowhere else to go, he grudgingly perched on the edge of the sofa.

From somewhere Dr. Tate whipped out a pen and a pad of paper far too large to fit in his pocket. "So, Lucius, what brings you here?"

"Mr. Malfoy," he reiterated. "Court order."

"Ooooh," said Tate, assiduously taking note. "An unwilling patient."

"Can we get on with it?"

_Belligerent_ he scrawled. "What was your crime? If I may ask."

"I don't believe I have a choice in what you ask. And if you must know, I was railroaded by pureblood-hating, traitorous, back-biting disgraces to the name of wizardry."

Dr. Tate peered over at him, cocking an eyebrow. Pureblood? "So you're an Aryan?" With that gorgeous long blond hair, it seemed unlikely. Nevertheless, he jotted down _skinhead_.

"Aryan?" repeated Lucius, caught off guard. "Since I don't know what that is, I find it highly improbable that it pertains to me."

Well, he'd also mentioned _wizardry_. "You're a witch?"

Lucius' eyes narrowed. This 'doctor' was definitely cruising for a bruising. He tossed his mane back. "Despite my uncommon attractiveness and my luscious locks, I am _not_ a witch. I am a _wizard_, you pathetic excuse for dogmeat."

"I find name calling to be counterproductive," responded Tate.

"I find it very productive."

Arguing like children would hardly accomplish much. Taking in his patient's odd robe-like clothing, he asked, "Did you say you're a wizard? Like Merlin or the Druids?"

Lucius paused. He had no idea who Muggle Merlin might be, but if this ponce thought him important, he couldn't be anyone of consequence. As to the Druids, he'd never in his life been in a band, nor did he see how that related to him being a wizard. Finally he said, "You're an idiot."

"Name calling," sing-songed Tate.

"Would you prefer a fist to the face?"

"Name calling is good," replied the doctor hastily. "Perhaps we should start at the beginning, Lucius. What was your childhood like?"

"It's Mr. Malfoy, and what difference does that make?"

"Your childhood shapes you, makes you who you are."

"In that case, I must have had a glorious childhood," said Lucius smugly.

A withering gaze from Dr. Tate caused him to pull his robes about himself, sulking. He could anticipate ten—or more, God forbid—sessions like this? It was torture, pure and simple. This was inhumane!

"How do you feel about your mother?" persisted the nosy-body.

"I don't remember her, if you must know. She died when I was quite young."

_Misses mother. Possible transference—must ask about hookers_. "Did you have a good relationship with your father?"

Lucius rolled his eyes again. Nobody he knew had anything resembling a _good_ relationship with their fathers. He and Abraxas had a normal father/son bond: Abraxas told him what to do and he did it. Failing that, he was beaten into submission. Perfectly normal. "It was fine."

"Was there anyone who ever touched you in ways that made you feel helpless or afraid?"

"Of course, you git!" exclaimed Lucius. "Azkaban isn't exactly a country club, now is it?"

"I wouldn't know." He scribbled down _Ask-a-ban_ to look up later. Probably a web site or something. "I meant, did anyone—an uncle or teacher or someone close to you—ever make advances of a sexual nature?"

Lucius' eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped for only a second before he remembered who he was and snapped his mouth shut. The gall of these Muggles! "If you're implying I was sexually molested, I most certainly was not, nor would I confide it to you if I had been! If you're alluding to my wife, I suggest you back off before my foot becomes lodged in your colon!"

Dr. Tate duly noted on his pad _Threatens bodily harm. Was likely molested_. "Let's approach this in a different way. You tell me what bothered you the most when you were growing up."

Without noticing, Lucius had slipped down on the divan, staring at the ceiling's ugly, stained squares of fake tile. What bothered him the most? "You do mean from my childhood?" he confirmed.

"Yes."

"Hmmm." There was a conundrum. Muggles, of course, topped the list, particularly this one at the moment, although he didn't recall being bothered by them as a child. Schoolwork he'd been unable to bully someone into doing for him had been a nuisance. Girls with prettier hair than his—oh, who was he kidding? None of the girls had nicer hair!

"Dobby," he announced at last.

"Who or what is that?" Dr. Tate dutifully wrote _Dobbie_.

"The house elf. He hated me," said Lucius.

_House elf_ wrote Tate, then stopped. "What is a house elf, Lucius?"

"Mr. Malfoy! It's a servant, Muggle. Anyway, while my father lived, Dobby belonged to him. Father pampered the sneaky little puke, who spied on me all the time and ran back to tell my father everything I did." He wished Dobby was here now so he could punch the traitor's grotesque head.

_Paranoid delusions of owning treacherous slaves—or perhaps talking animals_. _Jealous of father's pet_. "How did that make you feel?"

"How do you think? Furious, betrayed, homicidal. I got him back, though. I'd grab him by his big pointy ears and toss him down the stairs or over the balcony." Lucius chuckled, reminiscing. "For every thrashing I received because of him, I paid him in full."

_Father abusive. Lucius possibly tortured small creatures_. "How do you feel about "Dobbie" now?"

Lucius twisted his mouth in disgust. "I despise him. If that Potter brat hadn't tricked me into freeing him, I'd still be making him suffer as he deserves."

_Enjoys maltreating beasts. Relation to S&M? Enemy or rival a pot maker_. "Do you still associate with this potter?"

"Absolutely not! He's caused so much upheaval, although I guess if it wasn't for him I'd still be under Voldemort's thumb. He was good for something."

"Voldemort?"

Lucius sighed. He was tired of explaining to a retard. "The dark lord who ran my life while I was a Death Eater."

_Voldemort=nickname for father. Death eater=pet name for abuse of animals_. "Lucius, the court did the right thing in ordering you here. Apparently you have numerous issues to work through, and I believe we've only scraped the tip of the iceberg."

"Mr. Malfoy!" shrieked Lucius, leaping to his feet. "Call me Mr. Malfoy!" Hands outstretched, ready to throttle the doctor, he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to desist. "The only issue I have is why a loyal, hardworking man whose sole purpose in life was the betterment of society is being subjected to this cruelty!"

_Persecution complex. Anal fixation on name_. "And I'd like to discuss that in our next session, Lucius. Our time is up."

As Lucius waited by the elevator he heard Dr. Tate murmur to his receptionist, "We'll need to schedule additional sessions for this patient. It may take years to straighten him out."

"Nooooooooo!"

A few moments later a man came wandering up the corridor; he stopped at the front desk. "Hello, Veronica. Who's that poor man screaming over there?"

"Dr. Tate's new patient. Seems to be really tormented."

"Yes, so I see. Pity. If Dr. Tate can't help him, no one can."

"Too true," nodded Veronica. "Go on in, Gilderoy, he's expecting you."


	2. Chapter 2

7

Lucius and the Shrink—Chapter 2

Lucius and Severus tramped out of the lift together, Lucius leading the way, neither one speaking. They entered Dr. Tate's waiting room, where the receptionist glanced up and smiled at Snape in the most welcoming way she could manage with those murderous black orbs piercing her soul. It felt unnerving, and somehow sensual at the same time.

"Hello, I'm Veronica." Severus returned a blank, unwavering stare. "Dr. Tate is expecting you."

"I should hope so, seeing as he asked for my presence," Snape clipped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Trying to loosen him up, she confided, "Mr. Malfoy calls me 'Pet'."

Severus turned to Lucius, who grimaced while rolling his eyes. "I call her Pest. By now you've probably deduced why."

"I'm surprised you haven't transfigured her into a dancing monkey," said Snape dryly. Then he added, as though he'd just recalled, "Oh, wait. That was _me_!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Snape, that was twenty years ago. Hold a grudge much?" Lucius looked imperiously over at the closed office door, then back to Veronica. "Are we to be kept waiting like peons?"

"That sounds dirty," Veronica said, stifling a giggle. She pressed a button on the intercom and said, "Dr. Tate, Mr. Malfoy is here with Mr. Snape." There was a muffled, unintelligible reply before Veronica motioned with her hand at the men. "Go on in."

"Brace yourself," Lucius warned for the third time, opening the door slightly. "This Muggle fool's 'office'—and I use the term lightly—"

"I think I'll manage," answered Severus, pushing him through the door and closing it with a resounding slam.

To Severus' dismay, Lucius hadn't been exaggerating. If it hadn't been pointed out that this was an office, he'd have suspected an opium den. The thick curtains were drawn so that the sunlight trying to enter filtered through in one pitiful stream at the corner of the room, illuminating airborne dust particles like billowing smoke. Another divan had been set up opposite the first, with only the doctor's chair facing them, and Dr. Tate was already planted in his seat. There was no evidence of books or desk or trembling children, or anything he associated with an office. Lucius, used to the routine, ambled over and lay down on one divan. Severus, his mouth puckered into a pout, walked jerkily over and stood next to the other.

"Hello, Lucius," said Dr. Tate. He thrust a hand at Malfoy, trying to shake hands, but Lucius shoved his firmly in his pockets and pretended not to notice the attempt.

"It's Mr. Malfoy," retorted Lucius automatically. Why couldn't this twat get it right? The Muggle ponce seemed incapable of addressing him properly, despite the number of times he'd corrected him. He idly wondered if he could sneak his wand in, just for a simple little spell to make the fool grovel as was only appropriate. And maybe to make him forget all about these silly sessions…

Dr. Tate ignored it. Eventually Lucius would come to see that he was being friendly and reciprocate. That's how the world worked, right? "Hello. You must be Severus." He extended his hand again, to no avail.

Snape's black eyes bored a virtual hole through the doctor's skull. "I don't know if I must be, but I am."

"Won't you sit down?" invited the doctor.

"Had you provided chairs, that would be easier to accomplish," answered Snape.

Lucius looked at his friend. "I understand your reluctance to use the sofa, I felt the same at first. However, it's actually quite cozy, and with the stress I'm under it feels good to relax."

"I'll forego the pleasure, thank you." Severus sat squarely in the middle of the divan, feet firmly planted on the floor.

Dr. Tate removed a thick file from the small table beside his chair and flipped through it, then produced a ballpoint pen. "I've asked Lucius to bring you in for a joint session because he speaks of you often." He peered at a note on his pad. "Oh, I see you were court ordered as well."

"You can read. Good for you," drawled Snape.

_ Mocking. Dresses all in black—possible Goth,_wrote Dr. Tate. "So, Severus, how are you doing today?"

Heinously long, awkward pause. "How am I doing _what_?"

"Your health, and so on," said Tate. When he received no answer after an even longer, strained silence, he said, "Well, let's get on with the session. Do you still work with Lucius?"

"No."

"I already told you that. The dark lord is dead," interrupted Lucius. Then, with a hint of anxiety, "Please tell me he's really dead this time, Severus."

_Lucius fears deceased father may come back from the grave_, scribbled Tate.

Severus sighed audibly. "Potter claims all the horcruxes are gone. Then again, Potter is hardly a paragon of reliability. He did leave me to die in that bloody shack."

_Mention of potter again…recurring theme…perhaps suffered some form of sexual-ceramic trauma at the hands of a pot maker…or possibly a serial killer__._

"I'm sorry, Severus, could you expound on that last comment?" asked Tate, interest piqued.

Snape gave such a vicious sneer it almost passed as baring of the teeth.

"He can be verbose, believe me. Grandiloquent, even," said Lucius.

"Look who's talking, Mr. Bombastic Prat," answered Severus, his sneer not budging.

Tate jumped in with, "Severus, I'd really like to foster a productive environment here. If you could answer my last question…"

Not caring to go into the whole Shrieking Shack incident, which frankly creeped him out to think about, Severus enunciated clearly as if for a particularly thick student, "We. No. Longer. Work. For. Voldemort—who, as we have previously established, is quite dead." Then, in case the psychiatrist hadn't got the point, he added, "We're no longer Death Eaters."

_Evasive_. _Admits to partnering with Lucius in torturing animals. Used to work for Lucius' father_. "What was your job with the elder Mr. Malfoy?"

Giving a strange look, Snape answered, "I was a Potions master and healer."

_Thinks he's a shaman. Does look Native American__._

"Don't forget double agent," interjected Lucius, who lay with his eyes closed.

"And spy for two of the worst megalomaniacs this world has ever seen," said Snape wearily.

From his couch Lucius piped up, "He also brought the prophecy to the dark lord, the one that caused the whole second war that almost destroyed the world."

"Really, Lucius? You want to go there?" snapped Severus.

_Shared delusion of spying for superpowers and causing Second World War._

"We're here to…actually, I'm not sure why we're here, but it seems the logical place to air our grievances," said Lucius defensively.

"You're here to work on personal growth and development," said Tate.

Lucius curled his lip at the doctor, then ignored him completely. "As I was saying, if you'd kept your mouth shut instead of trying to ingratiate yourself with the dark lord, we might have avoided a lot of pain."

"You're the one who told me to make myself useful, as I recall," Severus shot back. "Being tortured for inaction isn't my idea of a picnic." He crossed his arms and glared at Malfoy, who stared back, unfazed.

Dr. Tate observed the wizards briefly. For best friends, they sure had a lot of animosity boiling under the surface. "So to summarize, Severus brought a horoscope to your father, Lucius, and it angered him. I'm a little fuzzy on how this began World War II."

Lucius and Severus both turned to look at the psychiatrist with confused disgust. How in the world had he gotten _that_ from what was said? At length Severus said, "I see what you mean, Lucius. I pity you being handed such a vicious punishment."

"Don't forget demeaning," said Lucius.

"It goes without saying, which is why I failed to say it." Severus stood up and smoothed down his robe. "I'm leaving."

"I'm afraid you can't do that," Dr. Tate said, tapping his pen on the stack of papers in the file. "You've been ordered to appear here and help Mr. Malfoy work through his issues—not to mention your own desperate need for counseling."

Snape's eyes narrowed to black slits. "I believe it's your job to sort out Malfoy's issues. And I have no need of your prattling drivel, nor what passes for therapy."

_Confrontational. Resists help._ "On the contrary, I've never met anyone more in need," said Tate. He barely dodged the box of tissues slung at his head—had Severus been able to find anything closer to a blunt instrument, he'd have been tempted to use it.

"Severus, did you hear that?" exclaimed Lucius, sitting up gleefully. "He finally called me Mr. Malfoy! I'm making an impact after all."

"He's supposed to be treating you, Lucius, not the other way round," Snape explained, rolling his eyes. He did, however, slump back onto the divan. Unless he endured this session, he'd be in trouble with the Ministry. Heaven knew he'd endured far worse in his life than listening to a fool babble on. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"That's the spirit," Tate replied, smiling. "Let's go back to the bit about the horoscope—"

"It was a prophecy, you dimwit," Snape barked. "Do you even know what we are?"

"Why don't you tell me," said Tate, anxiously bending over his notepad.

"Lest you forget, we invoke the doctor/patient privilege," Severus prefaced his comment. "Lucius and I are powerful wizards, we don't mingle in this Muggle world unless necessary, and we were only forced to come to you as punishment for crimes committed while in the wizarding world."

That felt good to get off his chest. He wasn't used to speaking his mind so plainly, what with the need for constant secrecy and all. The doctor furrowed his brows and tilted his head.

_Illusions of grandeur._

"Lucius mentioned being a witch—er, wizard. Sorry, Lucius," said Tate.

The other grunted a distracted, "Mr. Malfoy."

Tate went blithely on, "I've heard tell that witch doctors make potions, I just didn't make the connection until now. So the both of you are witch doctors?"

Again Snape's bone-chilling stare. "We're wizards. We do magic. Can your infinitesimal brain process that?"

A few more scribbles on the paper, and Tate looked up at him. "So you're magicians."

"Told you," Lucius sang in a tiny voice, glancing sidelong at the doctor, then Snape.

Severus threw up his hands in exasperation. "I don't think I can be any clearer. Let me just say that Longbottom and Weasley have nothing on you, Dr. Tate. I'm leaving, even if it means they throw me in Azkaban. Nothing is worth this." He headed to the door and halted. "Lucius, I apologize for the cruel taunting when you described your fate to me. I had no idea." He swooped out of the room and past the front desk with Dr. Tate calling after him and Veronica staring stupidly.

Tate turned slowly to Lucius, who was sitting up now. "Is Severus always so temperamental?"

"Sadly, yes." Lucius heaved a martyr-like sigh. How dare Snape escape these stupid sessions when he had to stay behind? "He's like a brother to me, but he can be a drama queen." He smirked at the thought of Severus hearing that remark.

"Well, it looks like it's just us," said Tate, turning around in his chair. "Last time we left off with your sister-in-law." He consulted his notes. "Bellatrix."

Lucius grimaced involuntarily. "Yes. That slutty little harpy joined forces with the dark lord to make my life hell."

_Sister-in-law having affair with father_. "Why don't you tell me about her."

"How much time do you have?" asked Lucius, settling down onto the sofa again. "If she weren't my wife's sister, I might have tried harder to kill her….er, I mean to beat her in dueling. The troglodyte had a sadistic streak a mile wide—and don't even get me started on her trashy clothes…."


	3. Chapter 3

8

Lucius and the Shrink—Chapter 3

Dr. Tate shuffled the papers that he'd spilled from Lucius' folder, quickly bringing himself up to speed on his patient. Squinting at his illegible handwriting, he glanced at Malfoy, already lying on the divan, eyes closed, seemingly asleep. He'd thought this was supposed to be a joint session.

"It looks like we're alone after all, Lucius," he mused.

"Not exactly a revelation," drawled Lucius, not particularly surprised at the 'doctor's' lack of knowledge. If the foolish Muggle managed to pick up on an overt clue now and again, it was surely dumb luck. "And it's Mr. Malfoy."

"Why don't you tell me more about…I'm sorry, I can't quite read my own handwriting." Dr. Tate took off his glasses, blinked rapidly, cleaned the lenses, then put them back on. It made no difference. "Moldie Mart."

"What?" asked Lucius irritably.

"Is that someplace you used to shop? Does it have unpleasant memories for you?"

"I haven't a clue what you're babbling about," said Lucius, ready to sit up and go home if this was what he had to endure. Honestly, how many wizards did this idiot practice his 'doctoring' skills on? Probably none except Lucius; how bloody hard was it to remember the gems that poured forth from his perfectly-formed lips?

Tate studied the word again. "Maybe it says Voldimint. A bank perhaps? A candy?" he continued, grasping at straws while noting Lucius' perturbed reaction.

Malfoy let out a sigh of exasperation. "Could it possibly be…oh, I don't know—Voldemort?"

With a slightly offended air, the therapist mumbled, "That _might_ be it."

"He's dead, as we ascertained in that session with Snape, the session wherein we mentioned that name _several dozen times_," stated Lucius flatly.

Reading over older notes, Tate came across _Voldemort=nickname for father_. "Oh, yes, I remember now. You substitute words in for actual names."

"As in 'moron' for you?" asked Lucius, one eyebrow lifted.

"I thought we established that name calling is not helpful to your therapy," admonished the doctor.

Lucius let out a mock gasp of shock. "Is that what this is? I'd begun to wonder if Azkaban was full and they were utilizing this as a new mode of persecution."

_Another reference to Ask-a-ban_. There was that word again. He really needed to go online and check it out, see what sort of filthy, vile, probably sex-laden site it was. Maybe he'd have Veronica do it…no, she might not be able to handle it as well as he could. There might be bondage, or sadism, or anything. He crossed his legs and cleared his throat. One thing at a time.

Pronouncing carefully, he said, "Tell me more about Voldemort."

While it wasn't precisely talking about himself, it was better than listening to that fool Muggle go on, so Lucius put his hands behind his head to think. At length he said, "Hmm, where to start? In a nutshell he was a megalomaniac who wanted to wipe out all Muggles and establish rule by purebloods."

Tate's pen scribbled frantically. _Father a skinhead psychopath, possible serial killer._ Looking up in confusion, he said, "What is a Muggle?"

"You. People with no magical ability," said Lucius, looking down his nose at Dr. Tate. How many times did he have to explain that word? Did this prat have no retentive capacity whatsoever? Were all Muggles as stupid as he was? If so, they definitely needed to be eliminated for the good of all mankind—well, wizardkind anyway.

Tate nodded benignly. Ah, yes. Lucius and his friend Snape were magicians, if he recalled correctly. "Go on."

"Of course I agree with Voldemort's philosophy. It was the constant pressure to succeed and heinous torture for failure that I found…objectionable. But being a loyal servant, I wouldn't say anything." And he'd kill me if I did, Lucius thought subversively.

The ballpoint swiped over the paper again. _Father tortured son for perceived failures_.

A knock on the door so startled Tate that he nearly dropped his pen. "Come in."

Veronica stuck her head inside and cooed cheerily, "Mr. Snape is here at last—"

The door slammed open and Severus strode in, thrusting the woman aside far enough to allow him passage. His normal impassive countenance had been replaced by a glower capable of making children in his classrooms wet themselves. Without a word he glided over to the remaining divan set up beside that of Lucius, his robes streaming majestically behind him, and sat down squarely in the middle of it, glaring at the doctor with an unmitigated expression of hatred.

"Severus, how lovely of you to come," said Tate, smiling.

Snape returned an icy stare. For a mere second his stare faltered when another man entered, flouncing in to stand in the middle of the room and look about as if he owned the place.

"Dr. Tate, I thought you were expecting me. Well, as I see nowhere else to sit, I don't think Severus will mind budging up for me." So saying, Gilderoy Lockhart pranced over and plopped down so close to Snape that he was actually seated partially on his lap.

Severus shoved him roughly off and moved further down the divan, baring his teeth at Lockhart. "I see your threat of intruding upon our session was not idle."

"Threat?" said Gilderoy, hand over his heart, eyes wide. "Severus, my dear friend, I'd do anything for you."

"When did you and Lockhart become chummy?" asked Lucius, becoming interested for the first time since arriving.

"He is not my friend," Severus muttered through a jaw clenched so tightly the words barely squeaked out. "I was court ordered here, just like you. I have no idea why he's tagging along."

Lockhart swiped a hand rakishly through his hair, smiling so broadly Lucius feared his face might burst. "I took it upon myself to help. Severus and I used to work together, you know." He winked at Lucius, who sat bolt upright.

"Are you propositioning me?" Malfoy exclaimed, hand reaching for the wand that wasn't there.

"Oh, pish-posh," said Gilderoy, pulling a mirror from his pocket to study his eyes, smiling to check out his teeth. He glanced up apologetically. "Not that you aren't extremely good looking. I mean, that hair alone is to die for! And that skin—you must spend a good deal of time with the loofah, am I right? If I were of that persuasion, I'd happily proposition you, but Gilderoy does love the ladies." He winked again, grinned at himself in the mirror, then tucked it back into his pocket.

"Stop acting as if you know what you're like!" growled Severus suddenly. "You don't even know your own name!"

"Gilderoy Lockhart," retorted the other immediately. He smirked, then stuck out his tongue when the therapist wasn't looking.

"And did you recall that on your own, or did someone like Dr. Tate _tell_ you?" demanded Snape.

Lockhart turned to the doctor to whine, "He's picking on me."

"Mr. Snape, we must make this a safe place for all," said Dr. Tate, leaning forward to pat Lockhart reassuringly on the arm. "Gilderoy has worked hard to get to this point, to establish lost memories."

Lucius cleared his throat loudly. "I hate to complain, but why are they even here? This is my hour. If I'm to be compelled to frequent this vile place, the least you could do is keep out the riff-raff."

"I believe it is _my_ hour, and that riff-raff remark had better not be directed at me," Severus corrected him with an _I'll-hex-your-arse-off_ sneer. "You obviously arrived early, and this ponce—person—caused me to be late."

"Then why am I here?" asked Lucius.

"I asked you here for mutual moral support, though if last session is any indication, that was probably a dreadful mistake." Snape crossed his arms and tried to lean back, but as there was no back on the divan, he was forced to sit upright scowling at all and sundry.

"Oh, good, we're all caught up," said Gilderoy, edging closer to Snape, who inched further away. "Let's talk about Hogwarts, when we worked together. Dr. Tate says it's good for me to get the information straight from those who knew me best, and I'm sure we were the very best of mates."

"No, we weren't," said Severus emphatically, ignoring the delighted look on Lucius' face as he watched his friend squirm. "I resisted the idea when Albus said he was going to hire you, I abhorred you from the first, and let's face facts: you were an abysmal example of—everything. You managed to screw up the _one_ spell you were actually proficient at."

"Ah-ha!" exclaimed Gilderoy in triumph. "You admit I was proficient." Beaming, he pulled out his mirror to flirt with himself some more. "Lucius, did you know me?"

Lucius drew his robes more tightly about himself in an effort to distance himself. "It's Mr. Malfoy to you. And no, thank goodness. You're the most incompetent tool I've ever heard of, present company excepted." He glanced Dr. Tate's way, though the Muggle didn't appear to pick up on the insult, which Lucius found somewhat disturbing. "Severus, didn't you tell me he got himself cornered by a bunch of pixies? A second year had to corral them and lock them up."

Gilderoy flushed. "They must have been mean…whatever pixies are."

Pen in hand poised over the paper, Dr. Tate had no idea what to write. It seemed like he ought to be writing _something_; he was pretty sure Lucius was trying to tell him something, though he wasn't sure what, and those pixies sounded menacing. Why did these witchdoctors or whatever they were have to speak in their code phrases? To be on the safe side he wrote _Gilderoy bullied by pixies._ He'd work out the logistics later of precisely what they were.

"By the way," continued Gilderoy, lowering the mirror, "What was I proficient at?" He knew what a spell was, he'd seen the doctors and nurses at St. Mungo's use them all the time.

"Nothing," said Severus, turning to fully face his foe. "Lockhart, I say this with the gravest earnestness. You were the worst ever to fill that post, and believe me when I tell you that is saying a _lot_. Even Quirrell, who wore the dark lord on his head and managed to get himself killed, was better than you."

_Lucius' father in homosexual relationship with squirrel?_ Was that even possible?

"The freaking _werewolf_ was better than you!"

_Severus resorting to comparisons to imaginary animals. He and Lucius frequently exhibit this tendency._

Taking the opportunity of Snape drawing a breath, Tate interjected, "And you both were…?" Despite his desire to say magicians, for which he'd been lambasted before by both Lucius and Severus, he waited for Snape's reply.

"Teachers—in his case using the term very loosely," answered Severus, rolling his eyes at Gilderoy, who bounced up and down excitedly.

"That's good, that's normal!" Tate squealed, scribbling down _Severus was a teacher!_

"Of the Dark Arts," Severus went on in a monotone, ignoring Tate's horrified expression.

"So…you're Satanists?" he uttered in a hushed tone.

Snape shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm not, though I'm really not familiar with Lockhart's religious affiliations. Frankly, I'd be surprised if any deity would have him."

"Satan would welcome me with open arms," Lockhart huffed.

Lucius and Severus glanced at each other and snickered, sending the therapist into a state of semi-shock. To date he'd never seen Snape crack a smile, let alone laugh. _Severus and Gilderoy in coven together._

"If you're just going to be unkind, I'm leaving," said Gilderoy, standing up and staring down at Snape. "I'll walk right out that door." He took a single step in the direction of the door. "I mean it, Severus, I'll go and you'll be sorry for ruining our brilliant friendship."

Severus sighed. "How many times must I repeat it, Lockhart? We are not friends. We are scarcely acquaintances. Despite the fact that Dumbledore forced you on me and the entire school, I went out of my way to avoid being in the same room with you whenever humanly possible. The only time I enjoyed your company was when I kicked the shit out of you in dueling!"

_Severus and Gilderoy engaged in illegal street fighting._ He never thought he'd write those words, certainly not about the Goth Satanist and the pretty boy.

"You enjoyed my company!" Lockhart echoed, his anger melting. "I forgive you." He flopped onto the divan, patting Snape on the leg with one hand.

Severus smacked at him and moved so close to the edge he had to brace himself with his feet to keep from falling off. "Aren't you due back at the hospital for some therapy or other?"

"That's so considerate of you to think of me," murmured Lockhart. To Lucius and the doctor he said, "See, that's why we're so close."

"I thought it was because you're pressing against him like a drunken sailor on a whore," said Lucius dryly. "No offense, Severus."

"Why should I take offense at being compared to a whore?" replied Snape, eyes shooting daggers at Lucius. "I suppose you know whereof you speak, having been at Voldemort's beck and call during your house arrest."

"I knew it!" shouted Tate, then grinned stupidly and ducked his head to write _Lucius sexually abused by father._ "Go on."

Lucius drew himself up primly. "You know as well as I do that Voldemort never expected _that_ of me. Yes, he beat me and treated me like a house elf, and broke my wand—but at least he wanted my wand!"

Snape snorted. "He really wanted _mine_, the Elder Wand, but couldn't get ahold of it till he broke into Dumbledore's tomb.

"I thought you were older, Lucius," said Dr. Tate.

Malfoy and Snape sent him scathing looks. Tate's gaze bounced back and forth between the two, then finally wrote _Lucius and Severus vied for sexual attention of father—who apparently was a grave robber._ It just got more and more complicated with these two!

"Well, at least I didn't get the Potter family killed—which incidentally is when your personality went straight to hell," said Lucius, crossing his arms and pouting.

_Severus responsible for death of pot maker's clan._ No wonder the pot maker had it in for the two of them!

Severus actually looked offended, a grand feat considering he prided himself on being impassive. "You want to wiggle that knife a little deeper, Lucius? I can still draw breath."

Lucius hesitated. Yes, he'd spoken the truth, but sometimes one had to smooth things over for the sake of the relationship. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. You've always had a lousy personality."

Snape rolled his eyes. Pitiful. And yet, all things considered, it must have taken a lot for Malfoy to get that close to an apology. When all was said and done, he was Severus' best friend. "I can't blame you, I suppose. This place takes its toll on us." He gestured around at the office. "How about we leave, go get some lunch?"

"I believe I will." Lucius got up, skirting around the doctor lest he try to shake hands again.

Without another word or backward glance, the two of them went out, slamming the door behind them. Dr. Tate stared after them, then turned to Lockhart. "Well, looks like it's you and me, Gilderoy. How about we try hypnosis to get at the root of your Satanist leanings?"


End file.
